


Like Rabbits

by wellhellofuture



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Avengers: Endgame Compliant, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Steggy - Freeform, Three plus One, kiddos, more steggy domesticity because I cannot get enough?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-02 21:29:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18819382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellhellofuture/pseuds/wellhellofuture
Summary: Three times Peggy told Steve she was pregnant & one time she didn't have to.





	1. Peggy Surprises Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of this, I assume Steve takes Peggy’s last name when they marry, or otherwise the household just goes by The Carters. My personal head canon is Steve comes back just after the canon events of Agent Carter, so that's what we're rolling with.

1.

 

The doctor confirms what Peggy’s suspected for weeks. She could’ve attributed the missed monthly flow to a lot of things: adjustment to her new environment in New Jersey, the stress she undergoes on a daily basis as a rising female leader in an elite surveillance organization, even the lack of sleep and regular meals she often simply forgets to eat (despite Steve’s best intentions). She probably could’ve even explained the increased nausea and breast tenderness as the results of anxiety and long days hauling around equipment as the new base comes together.

 

It’s the sudden disability to stomach a strong cup of English tea that makes her certain.

 

As she drives home from her physician’s office with an approximate due date and a follow-up appointment scheduled for the next month, Peggy wonders how she ought to tell Steve. They truly hadn’t been trying for a baby, per se, but the ring that had finally made it onto her hand the previous spring had greatly decreased their concern for contraceptive devices. Privately, Peggy suspects that a large part of Steve’s growing disinterest in the use of a diaphragm or rubbers is linked to the sense of underlying desperation he hasn’t yet managed to shake. While she dislikes the brutish attitude it implies, she understands that, to Steve, the idea of impregnating her adds a sort of finality to their life, marking her as his.

 

It's all the more clear in instances like this that the Steve who’d turned up on her doorsteps all those months ago isn’t the same Steve she’d lost on the Valkyrie. That Steve, she knows, would have been nothing but gentle and worshipful to her, especially in bed, always deferring to her every want and need. This Steve, her Steve, could be like that, to be fair, and often is; but he is equally as often desperate and demanding, bringing her to peak after peak before finally finding his own release.

 

She isn’t quite sure which she prefers, though she has a suspicion that it was the latter which caused her current condition.

 

Still, despite the subtle differences she notices in her husband as compared to his twin who still sleeps in the Arctic, she knows he’ll be thrilled with the new addition. And she trusts that, like always, he will be the reserves from which she can draw strength in times of need.

 

A spark of inspiration hits her as she pulls the car onto Main Street. She recalls the advert in the magazine she’d read as she waited to be called in to see the doctor and makes a detour into the general store.

 

When she gets home, she finds Steve starting on supper. The smell of onions on his hands as he leans in to kiss her causes a sharp twist in her gut, but she breathes through her mouth and the moment passes.

 

“You’re late getting home today,” he remarks as he dumps more vegetables into the pot on the stove. “Did Phillips send over more files again?”

 

“Oh, no,” she says breezily. “They were having an offer on patterns at the store and I thought I’d pick up a few. Something to keep you busy as I’ll likely have to work a lot of late nights in the near future.”

 

It’s partially true. Steve has proven himself more than adept with a needle and thread, certainly better than Peggy’s limits of a crude button fasten and hem repair. He’d surprised her with a handmade dress their first Christmas together, and it had fit remarkably well—he told her it was because he was intimately familiar with her measurements.

 

Peggy tosses the package carelessly onto the table, waiting to see if he’ll take the bait. True to form, Steve tosses in the last of the seasonings and vegetables, adds a lid, and inserts the whole thing into the oven. He rinses and then dries his hands before perusing the innocent brown bag on the table.

 

The first set of patterns he pulls out is for mens’ trousers. He shoots her a glare; their age-old argument on how long one can continue to wear a pair of pants once one has worn a hole into the seat is anything but settled. He looks on the verge of arguing, but Peggy waves him on.

 

The second set of patterns is for ladies’ nightgowns. She’d specifically chosen nightgowns as they were far from fitted, and she expects to need larger, comfortable clothing as the months progress. Steve hums in appreciation, eyeing the gauzy fabric the model on the cover is sporting. She can practically see the gears in his mind turning as he imagines her in a similar outfit. She rolls her eyes.

 

“One more,” she says, suddenly fighting to keep her voice level. She holds her breath as Steve pulls out the last little packet, smaller than the others.

 

He pauses. She knows what he sees: a little chubby babe on the front cover, decked out in a smart one piece. A tiny jacket and the smallest hat she’s ever seen complete the set. Steve’s jaw works as he tries to make sense of what he holds in his hands.

 

“Peg, I think you bought the wrong one,” he says slowly, trying for neutral but missing the mark entirely. He still hasn’t looked at her.

 

“I didn’t,” she whispers, and he looks up at her. Sees her hand cradling the nonexistent bump.

 

“Really?” His eyes are wide as saucers. The pattern drops to the table, forgotten.

 

All she can do is nod.

 

He rushes to her in two huge strides, tucking her face into his neck and dropping kiss after kiss onto her hair. He picks her up and spins her around, then abruptly stills and places her back on the ground as if he’s remembered he’s carrying precious cargo.

 

“Really? You’re sure,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion and his eyes shining in the fading light. She can’t help but grin up at him.

 

“Yes, darling. Truly. I saw a doctor today, he says everything seems perfectly healthy and on track.”

 

She nearly expects him to crow with pride, or glee, but instead he gathers her face in his hands and presses a reverent kiss to her lips. She can feel his smile, and the wet streaks he isn’t bothering to hide. Breaking the kiss, he steps back to slip to his knees before her.

 

Here, in this moment, brow relaxed and face spread wide with a grin, he looks young again. She can see the shadow of the green private she’d trained in boot camp, and the strong, quietly confident captain who’d been her rock through the war. The pure joy at her announcement transforms his face, takes away the weight of the years—and the worlds—that haven't yet fallen from his shoulders since he’s come home to her.

 

He rests his forehead just below her breasts, his mouth hovering over her abdomen. He presses the gentlest of kisses there, the stomach below her dress still flat and taut yet now carrying new life within. Peggy is shocked to find tears welling in her eyes as she strokes his hair and looks down at her little family.

 

Steve rises smoothly after a long moment and pulls her into his arms. They make their way around the kitchen, dancing to the tune Steve hums in her ear, despite the radio droning on about the Dodgers in the background. It takes her a long moment to recognize the tune as the song the radio had been playing during that first dance in her sun-lit living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of four chapters, all of which are written and will be posted over the next week. This one...is probably my least favorite, to be quite honest, but it is what it is.
> 
> Also, did I sketch out an exact timeline regarding the dates of conception & birth for all the Steggy babies? of COURSE I did. If you’re curious, drop me a line!
> 
> To be continued shortly!


	2. Carter, Party of Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where everyone's mad and sleep deprived and testy bc ~hormones~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go with part two! Halfway done.

2.

They name their first child, a little girl, Sarah Marie. Steve lets Peggy pick the name on her own, claiming a lack of opinion, but mostly interested to see what she comes up with; he can’t help but remember the names of the children the Peggy of his time had raised. They narrow it down to three options by the time Peggy goes into labor and it's only Sarah that feels right when the little one pops out, screaming as loud as she can, but quieting in her mother’s arms.

 

Steve fusses over her endlessly from the moment of her birth, as Peggy’d expected, and she herself makes the quickest recovery she could’ve hoped for without having been a super soldier herself. 

 

Within a few weeks she’s back at the office sporadically, and within months Steve is tasked with caring for the baby all on his own. Peggy occasionally swings home for lunch, or Steve drops by the base, but for the most part they spend their days chunked into parts: Steve takes over from the wee hours of the morning until supper, then Peggy picks up the late shift until bedtime. Usually, though, Steve can’t bear to be far from them, even during his "off" hours, so the three of them pass their evenings in the slightly sleep-deprived, loving glow of new parenthood.

 

That is, until Sarah quits latching onto Peggy.

 

It’s the fifth night in a row that Peggy can’t seem to get Sarah to take to her breast when all hell breaks loose. Steve and Peggy, rubbed raw from the long hours Sarah has spent screaming from frustration and hunger, are at their wits’ ends. Sarah is losing weight, Peggy’s breasts are so full they hurt, and Steve feels useless and unable to do anything about it. He is horribly aware of the strength and power running in his veins, yet he can do nothing to ease his family's suffering. The panic builds until he feels ready to burst and he takes a lap outside in the snow to keep from sniping at Peggy. When he returns he can tell it was the wrong thing to do.

 

Peggy’s face is nearly as red as Sarah’s, flushed with indignation.

 

“You couldn’t take it, could you?” she seethes as he makes his return, Sarah tucked in the crook of her shoulder. “You can’t take the screaming and the tears and the noise, so you left, is that it? You go, and you leave me here alone when I can’t do a damn thing about it!” Her voice is shrill, furious, breaking at the end, and it grates at the last nerve in Steve’s body.

 

Steve bristles, aware he’s about to make a comment he knows he’ll regret but unable to hold it in, when they both hear it. Sarah’s cries have gone from angry to desperate, seeking comfort from the two people who exist to protect her. Peggy’s face crumples and Steve feels himself soften. He knows it’s been hard on him, not being able to do anything to help the two girls most important to him, but he knows it’s been even harder on Peggy, who sees her inability to feed her daughter as the highest sort of failure a mother can achieve.

 

Steve steps in close, gently removes the weeping Sarah from her mother’s shoulder. He tucks her under his chin and rubs her back in an attempt to soothe, though her cries barely change in volume.

 

He looks at his wife over his daughter’s shoulder and sees the details he’s missed in his anger and exhaustion. Peggy’s eyes are bloodshot, her hair ragged from Sarah’s incessant fists. Her neck and collarbones are wet with snot and rubbed raw from the constant adjusting of Sarah’s little body. She hasn’t bothered to cover herself back up from her latest failed attempt to nurse, so he sees her nipples, enflamed and nearly bleeding, all from trying to feed their baby. Her breasts are heavy with unused milk, the veins standing out in a way that looks painful even to him. His heart aches for her.

 

“Peggy,” he says as gently as he can manage, “I’ll try to get her down. Go upstairs, go to bed. If we can just get through tonight we’ll go see Dr. Sowders in the morning.”

 

She looks about to protest, then miraculously, Sarah’s cries start to abate. She’s not done wailing, not just yet, but she seems to sense how utterly wrecked her parents are and decides to take pity.

 

Steve finally succeeds in shooing Peggy up the stairs and settles into the rocking chair with Sarah.

 

“Shh, Bean,” he whispers. “We’ve got to let Mama sleep. You’ve been awfully hard on her.”

 

Sarah smacks her lips in his ear several times, but at least it’s better than the screaming. He hears Peggy run the taps in the bathroom before what sounds like a collapse into bed. The corner of his mouth turns up—he owes her the biggest apology in the world.

 

When Sarah blissfully succumbs to sleep on his shoulder, Steve heaves a sigh of relief—which, inadvertently, wakes her again. He shushes her valiantly, and thinks he’s got it when her mouth gapes in a yawn, only to wince when it stays wide open to scream in his ear.

 

Morning cannot come quickly enough.

 

The Carters pile into their car. Peggy, who’d all but crawled back down the stairs upon hearing Sarah’s cries start up, had pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek before gently lifting Sarah from his arms.

 

“We’ll need at least one sane person at the doctor tomorrow,” she’d said grimly, and in that moment Steve's respect for his strong, capable, determined wife quadruples all over again.

 

So it's Steve that drives them.

 

The nurse at the reception desk takes one look at their sad trio—unwashed hair, wrinkled clothes, and a baby who’s only stopped screaming because she’s yelled herself hoarse—and ushers them into the first available examination room.

 

A mere fifteen minutes later, they have a short list of baby formulas that won’t break the bank as well as a recommendation to try cow’s milk. The doctor assures them any damage done to Sarah isn’t permanent, either physically or psychologically, and she's expected to make a full recovery to the sweet, happy baby they’ve known for the first several months of her life. The infant in question greedily sucks down a bottle of formula during the drive home and is asleep within the half hour.

 

Which leave her exhausted parents with time on their hands to discuss this newest development.

 

“I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it, once he asked,” Peggy says dimly. The good doctor, as blunt as can be, had listened to their concerns for all of thirty seconds before cutting them off and inquiring the date of Peggy’s most recent monthly cycle.

 

Peggy, for the life of her, could not remember. She supposed it was the sleep deprivation, but she honestly couldn’t remember what she ate for breakfast the previous day, much less the date of her latest period. To her surprise, Steve had cleared his throat and said, voice strangled, “I do the washing. It’s been—more than a month. I’m certain. I just—I just didn’t think anything of it, I guess.”

 

To which the doctor had pumped their hands and wished them a hearty congratulations with a promise to see Peggy in a few weeks.

 

And thus they find themselves perched numbly on the sofa, watching baby Sarah’s soft, deep breaths.

 

“Another one,” Steve sighs, equally as thrown. They’ve just barely begun to get a handle on things with Sarah, though it is a relief to know that this latest failure has been purely biological—infants stop taking to their mother’s milk when a new baby is conceived, they learned—rather than caused by either of them.

 

Peggy groans.

 

“Damn super swimmers,” she mutters under her breath. Steve cocks his head at her.

 

“What—what did you just say?”

 

“Super—super—"

She can’t manage to get any words out, and they promptly dissolve into hysteric, uncontrollable giggles. Some time later, once the sheer shock of the situation has worn off, Steve returns from the kitchen with cups of tea. He sprawls out lengthwise on the sofa after the tea is finished and motions Peggy to tuck herself into the dip between his narrow waist and the squishy back cushion.

 

He pets her hair absentmindedly.

 

“Two babies, in a little over a year. People will start to talk, you know,” he says, only half kidding.

 

Peggy just snuggles closer.

 

“Let them,” she replies. “The men won’t envy you, and I have a feeling the women will do the same to me. Can’t say I’m especially looking forward to round two, mind you.”

 

Steve pulls her close, drops a gentle kiss on her forehead.

 

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice, even to his own ears, is drowsy. He has no idea how Peggy is still coherent. Strength of mothers and all that, he supposes. 

 

“You’re so strong,” he murmurs, “so loving, and…and…” his voice trails off into a monstrous yawn.

 

Peggy’s laugh, light and quick in his ear, is like music.

 

“Sleep, my darling,” she says. “Soon we won’t have the time to blink, let alone catch up on sleep."

 

“Guess we'll be Carter, party of four,” is the last thing Steve hears before everything goes dark, and he knows he has so much to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, sweet Sarah. I picture her as tenacious and headstrong, growing to be the stereotypical first child who has the combination of both her parents' tempers and lack of concern for following rules.
> 
> I couldn't help but name their child after Steve's mother--I just couldn't.


	3. Outnumbered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They really should start learning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's already commented! I'm so glad you like this flavor of domestic!Steggy as much as I do.
> 
> On to part three, you crazy lovebirds.
> 
> (This one's long, bring a snack.)

3.

Elizabeth (“Eliza, so as not to offend the Queen,” Peggy insists) Amanda Carter makes her appearance on a Tuesday in August of 1952 that breaks decades-long heat records. 

 

On the first occasion that the entire family makes it outside for a walk, Peggy and Steve are forced to pack Eliza’s pram with ice to keep her from overheating in the hot sun. Steve refrains from making a “Like father, like daughter” joke, but only just.

 

The pair are so terribly worried that either Eliza or Sarah or both will end up with heat poisoning that they completely forget sunblock for themselves and end up a brighter shade of red than Peggy’s favorite lipstick.

 

It is the first in a string of hilariously unfortunate disasters to befell the Carters.

 

First it’s the sunburn from hell, then the pram quite nearly rolls completely down a hill while they both tend to a scrape on Sarah’s knee. Were it not for Steve’s quick reflexes, Eliza would have been careening down Tulip Avenue in a matter of seconds. The next week, Peggy rushes from the bathroom swaddled in her housecoat just in time to answer Eliza’s cries while Steve finishes dinner, only to narrowly avoid Sarah toppling into the bath she forgets to drain.

 

It’s from then on that they decide they each need to take a kid and go.

 

“Tag-teaming,” Peggy calls it. “My nurses did it sometimes with my brother and I. One of them would be in charge of Michael for a day, the other me. Then when they got fed up with whichever one they had, they switched.”

 

She pauses for a second as a devious grin sneaks across her face.

 

“Guess who made them switch more often,” she smirks.

 

Steve rolls his eyes.

 

The solution works, though. Surprisingly well. To their relief, Sarah is not quite old enough to be purposefully mischievous like her mother, so the workload for each parent is roughly the same no matter which daughter is the charge of the day. It feels almost like a callback to their days in the military, in the efficiency with which baths are doled out and stories read. Their lives get distinctly more organized and their girls are never wanting for attention, or protection.

 

The only problem is how little time they spend doing anything other than changing nappies or soothing tears.

 

A toddler and an infant, more so than Steve or Peggy expected, run on very different schedules. Peggy usually ends up with Eliza for the day, especially during feeding times, though they make an effort to switch to avoid the girls coming to the conclusion that they only have one parent each. Peggy spends much of her days cooing at the little girl, so much so that she sometimes forgets how to have an adult conversation with Steve. 

 

He doesn’t easily let her forget the night she slips into her baby voice the first time they do anything besides sleep in their bed. Steve nearly chokes on his own tongue, he’s so surprised, and Peggy feels more than hears his laughter shaking her thighs. He finally manages to compose himself and pops up from in between her legs to find her hiding her face in the pillows.

 

“Should I be concerned about the things you’re telling her during playtime?” he says in his sternest voice.

 

She chucks the pillow at him.

 

Just as well, she doesn’t let him forget the time he tries to pass her a bottle of formula at dinner. Sarah is beginning to be weaned off milk and onto more solid foods, but she still takes a bottle at night before bed. The particular evening in question, Steve seems to forget Sarah is staying at the Jarvises, who frequently request her company both because they love the little girl and because they know Steve and Peggy need the break. Steve’s become accustomed to the routine of making himself a plate and Sarah a bottle, and Peggy can’t hold back her laughter when Steve turns around to notice the bottle he extends toward his wife. He is adorably confused for a long moment, then huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. 

 

Despite the jokes and minor mishaps (though nothing nearly as severe as losing the pram crops up after they implement their new strategy), Peggy and Steve miss each other desperately. They live in the same house, but chasing after a toddler and an infant at the same time requires a Herculean amount of effort from both sides. And by the end of the day, when both can collapse into bed, the sheer fatigue and desire to get at least a few hours of rest before Eliza awakes propel them to go right to sleep nearly without exception. The days on the calendar flick by, one after the next, all blurring together with the monotony of their routines.

 

Peggy returns to work precisely eight weeks after Eliza is born. They toy with the idea of her staying home for longer, but she’s hesitant to put her position at SHIELD in jeopardy. Besides, Steve argues, he’s much more content with staying at home with the girls than Peggy would ever be. 

 

The transition goes well, all things considered. The first month is hard, and Steve calls Ana Jarvis in a panic more than a few times when he feels like he’s losing his mind. Gracious as ever, and more loved by the girls each day, she is his saving grace as he adjusts to spending most of the day on his own with two handfuls of accident-prone children. Once he settles into a semi-stable routine, though, things quiet down. He's able to take on a few remote consulting jobs, a few sketching commissions, but by and large he takes his job as resident house husband very seriously. It’s not like they need the money anyway, what with Peggy’s director salary.

 

By the time Sarah turns two the next summer, Eliza is doing her damnedest to toddle after her on chubby legs. Steve spends more time following the pair of them around the house than he does doing any kind of housework, so he ends up staying up late into the night folding sheets and wiping down the kitchen. He doesn’t mind it; he knows it lets Peggy have the time with her daughters that she misses while at work, and it’s not like the work is hard, per se. But Peggy knows her husband, knows he’s growing restless from the years cooped up in the house all day. She also knows he’d rather work himself to death than utter the tiniest complaint about their arrangement.

 

And so she asks around, and discovers that nearly a half dozen of the secretaries at SHIELD, as well as a number of the nurses employed on base, are resigned to giving up their jobs at some point over the coming nine months because not everyone has a husband as perfect as hers. Just as easily, she compiles a list long as her arm of women who have been forced to step away in the last year alone. A few phone calls and a firm conversation with the head of HR gets her what she wants: a wing towards the east of base, closest to the access points from town, where the children of all SHIELD staff can be tended, largely by the women who’d previously stepped away to care for their own children. Though, of course, if they request their old jobs back, they have them in a heartbeat. Peggy makes sure of it.

 

She doesn’t tell Steve until the development is complete. She calls him into work on a Tuesday in early summer, requesting a lunch with him and the girls. It’s been weeks since she’s been able to invite them to base—too many corporate lunches and business talks she has to attend—so Steve isn’t expecting the invitation, but the girls are thrilled at a change in routine.

 

She meets them at the gate and immediately sweeps Sarah from the ground for a cuddle. Eliza grabs at her mother from her perch in her father’s arms and is rewarded with a nuzzle of her own. 

 

“My little ones,” Peggy says warmly. “I’ve missed you! Come with Mama—I’ve quite the surprise.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes, used to her spoiling them with candies from her desk drawer. He looks put out enough that Peggy can’t resist dropping a kiss to his cheek, her eyes sparkling.

 

“Hi,” he whispers into her ear, and despite herself Peggy can’t help but feel a thrill as his smooth baritone rumbles down her neck. She glares, and he has the nerve to smirk back. Drat him—now she won’t be able to focus for the rest of the afternoon. Lately, their time apart seems infinitely larger than their time together, and she wishes more than ever that they could just lock themselves in the supply closet for an hour. She hopes her little pet project will do something to change the state of things.

 

Steve shifts Eliza to his other hip and motions to start down the path leading to Peggy’s office, but she smiles serenely at him and takes the other fork. He throws her a quizzical look, but follows obediently.

 

“Mama, I eated a cookie,” Sarah says. “Papa helped.”

 

“You ate a cookie, hm, darling?” Peggy says, smoothing her hair. “Spoiling their lunch, Steve?” she calls back to where he ushers Eliza along the path.

 

He grins.

 

“They’re snickerdoodles. Thought you wouldn’t mind if we made your favorite.”

 

Peggy gives an indignant huff.

 

“No use if there aren’t any left by the time I get to them!” She gives Sarah a tickle. “Did you eat all of Mama’s favorites?”

 

Sarah squeals with delight as they round the corner of the building that now houses Peggy’s brainchild. Steve clearly expects them to keep walking, but scoops Eliza up and trails along when he sees Peggy veer for the door.

 

The head of the center, a former SHIELD nurse with a penchant for pediatrics, glances up from the blocks center when she sees Peggy come in.

 

“Director Carter! I was wondering when we’d see those two little ones. Hello to you too, Steve.” She picks herself from the floor where a pair of twins are constructing a feat of modern engineering and makes her way to where they stand by the door.

 

“Peggy?” Steve asks, looking around. “What is this?”

 

“Hello, Annie,” Peggy ignores Steve for the moment. “Would you mind dearly giving Steve the tour? I’ve been waiting to surprise him. I’m going to go introduce Sarah and Eliza to their new playmates.”

 

She sets Sarah on the floor and neatly plucks Eliza out of Steve’s grasp. Steve has no choice but to follow Annie as she walks him around the room.

 

“Here are the play stations,” she motions to a corner with quadrants blocked off with dividers. “We'll rotate the toys through every week so they don’t get too used to one thing. Over there, that’s arts and crafts—we ordered paints, and pencils, a whole load of things. Oh! And back there, a bit of quiet space. Peggy mentioned Eliza can be a little shy, so we thought it might be nice to include a spot where the quieter ones can have some peace.”

 

“That’s—that’s thoughtful,” he manages. He can’t think of much else to say. Annie doesn’t seem to notice.

 

“It was awfully good of Peggy to make this up,” she says with feeling. “It’s so nice to feel useful again, like more than just a housewife. And SHIELD is so nice to work for, especially with her at the helm. You’ve got an incredible wife, Mr. Carter.” She pats him on the shoulder and excuses herself to make sure one of the children isn’t trying to eat Play-doh.

 

He spots Peggy knelt on the ground, encouraging Eliza to follow Sarah’s lead at the arts and crafts table.

 

“That’s good, darling,” he hears her say. “It looks just like the things Papa paints.”

 

He clears his throat behind her. She looks up at him, a wide smile stretching across her face. He knows he’s supposed to be happy, but he sort of feels like the time he got cornered in the alley behind the supermarket. A heavy foot on his chest, pushing down so he could barely breathe until Bucky shoved the guy off.

 

He smiles back at Peggy, out of reflex, but he knows she can tell something’s up because she leans back down towards the girls.

 

“Are you hungry?” she asks. “How does lunch sound, hm? They’re about to round everybody up. Go wash your hands and Miss Annie will come fetch you. Mama and Papa are going to go for a walk.”

 

The girls obey, Sarah pulling Eliza’s little arm behind her. Peggy rises to her feet and extends a hand.

 

“Walk with me?”

 

They slip out the doors with a wave to Annie, who is shepherding nearly two dozen children to the lunch tables alongside a few assistants. They walk in silence for a moment until Steve can’t take it anymore. He sighs, loudly, and rubs a hand through his hair.

 

“You’re unhappy,” Peggy says. It’s not a question, she can tell that much.

 

“I just—“ he stops and tries again. “I know it’s a good thing. It’s something SHIELD needs, that people will use. I-I just don’t know why we need it,” he finally gets out. "We, the Carters, I mean."

 

And Peggy sees it so clearly she can’t believe she missed it from the beginning.

 

“Oh, my darling. This is not about you,” she begins, then pauses. “Well—“

 

He throws her a wry smile, knowing and sad.

 

“Isn’t it?”

 

“No, Steve, not in the way you’re thinking. I can’t lie that I didn’t see this as a way to take some of the weight off your shoulders. Watching you work so hard night and day to provide for us—for our family—has been so very humbling, my dear. It made me think. Maybe there was something I could do.”

 

She pauses, knowing her next words must be carefully chosen.

 

“In no—in no way am I attempting to imply that you do not take the best possible care of our daughters that anyone in the world could provide. You are the most amazing father to them, and our family could not function without you. I just…Steve, I miss my husband. I miss you.”

 

It’s been an ache in her heart for months now, the fact that Steve has become an incredible father at the expense of being the independent man she knows him to be. He never complains, never falters at the tasks he completes day in and day out. Yet she knows he is made for more, that there is a hole in his heart he tries to ignore for the sake of their family.

 

She gathers his hands in hers and looks up at him.

 

“You would never ask me to be kept. I wouldn’t allow it, of course, but more importantly you would never ask it of me. I’m afraid I’ve been asking so much of you without bothering to see how you’ve been holding up.”

 

Steve sighs again at that, this time less sad and more relenting. He pulls her close, nuzzles her forehead.

 

“I do miss being good at more than tea parties and folding onesies,” he admits. “And I regret how little time we seem to have together anymore. I wouldn’t trade our girls for the world, you know that, but you’ll always be my best girl, and we haven’t had any time to ourselves in what feels like years.” He pauses. “Trust me, I’d know.”

 

“No regrets now, darling. Just moving forward. May I suggest a few things to do with our new free time?”

 

And the look she sends him leaves little doubt what she wants to suggest.

 

In the end, they compromise. Placated that his skills as a house husband are not being called into question, Steve accepts a 3-day-a-week commitment to the daycare. With three whole days now his own, he becomes a contractor for SHIELD, applying his military expertise and battle strategy to the missions that Peggy orders. They still don’t spend a ton of time together during the day, but he’s only called in when he’s needed, so he spends the rest of the time puttering around the house. With the majority of the chores complete by the time his girls are home, Steve has more than enough time to cuddle on the couch until the little ones’ bedtimes. Then he and Peggy have their own cuddling after.

 

The other half of the compromise is Peggy’s idea, a sort of kill two birds with one stone approach. She knows she’s in danger of picking up more and more hours if she doesn’t start putting limitations on her time in the office, and she truly misses times when she could be nothing but a loving wife. So they instigate weekly date night, made possible by rotating through their Rolodex of babysitters. Most often, it’s the Jarvises, but occasionally it’s Peggy’s peers from SHIELD or the neighbors across the street who have a little boy between the girls’ ages.

 

The first date night they schedule falls on Steve’s birthday. The day is beautiful, warm and sunny but not quite the blazing heat of deep summer just yet. They’d spent the better part of the afternoon at the park; Peggy had packed a picnic of Steve’s favorite treats, and the girls had enjoyed flying kites with their father as their mother watched on. By the time the girls are dropped off at the sitters', their eyes are already drooping. Peggy hopes Ana won’t be too sad that she doesn’t get to be more playful with her charges for the evening.

 

But then, Peggy can’t bring herself to be too bothered. She has her own plans for the evening: plans which distinctly involved rewarding her gorgeous husband for all he does for their little family. She’d even gone to the trouble of treating herself to a new set of undergarments for the occasion—all in the name of Steve’s birthday, of course.

 

He is suitably impressed.

 

*

 

Three or so weeks later, Steve is called into the office after hours. An op hasn’t precisely gone sour, not quite yet, but they want him on hand just in case. Peggy waves off his apologies and shoos him out the door. She is more than capable of handling dinner on her own.

 

Half an hour later finds Peggy dumping a box of soda into the flaming pan on her stove. With a sigh, she rummages in the icebox for leftovers from Steve’s dinner the night before. She feeds the girls, sets them off to bed, and promises herself a glass of wine as motivation to clean the kitchen. It would be cruel to leave the wake of her disaster for Steve when he returns.

 

The cleaning supplies are stored upstairs in their bathroom, she knows that much, but she’s not certain where Steve keeps the faded rags meant for especially disgusting messes. She has to rummage around to find them, but stops dead in her tracks when she opens the cupboard under the sink.

 

“Shit,” she sighs, and rocks back on her heels. She knocks the box of Modess sanitary napkins aside and reaches for the rags. They really should start learning from their carelessness.

 

Steve finds her in the living room when he finally gets back from base hours later.

 

“You didn’t have to wait up,” he says when he sees her, more than a little surprised. “It’s late, you’ve got to be in early tomorrow.”

 

She turns towards him and a wry smile plays at the corner of her lips.

 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

 

“Want me to make you a cup of tea? I’ll add a splash of bourbon, that always knocks you out,” he teases. He starts for the kitchen, but Peggy clears her throat and he turns back to face her.

 

“Yes to the tea, no to the bourbon,” she says grimly. He frowns at her.

 

“Are you sure? If you can’t sleep, it might help.”

 

She heaves a sigh and levels her gaze at him.

 

“Steve, when’s the last time we bought rubbers? Because I don’t think there are any currently in this house and that needs to change right now.”

 

He blinks, thrown. “Uh, I don’t—why do you…?”

 

Slowly, she allows her hand to settle on her stomach. Steve arches a brow.

 

“Again?” he asks, incredulous. She rolls her eyes.

 

“We seem to be quite good at it.”

 

He abandons his post in the kitchen and settles on the ottoman. He lifts her feet into his lap and rubs. Her feet aren’t swollen yet, but he knows they will be soon, something that annoys her to no end.

 

“Three of ‘em, and two of us,” he muses. “How’re we gonna do it?”

 

She smiles at him, tired and worried, but happy too, he can see.

 

“The only way out is through,” she says, reaching forward to cup his jaw and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

 

*

 

Steve is afraid they’ll have a house full of girls, but Michael Grant comes squalling into the world a short nine months later. He’s their tiniest baby so far, so tiny that Steve begins to worry about his genetics rearing their ugly head. The doctors worry, too, about him making it past a few weeks of life. But lo and behold, little Michael proves himself his parents’ son and soars through his tests with flying colors.

 

Howard sends them a bulk order of rubbers as congratulations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go!
> 
> Thanks again for all the love. Y'all are amazing.


	4. Steve Surprises Peggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is detail-oriented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: if (natural) bodily scarring/stretch marks/weight gain & self-consciousness or body image issues as a result of such things is a trigger for you, be careful. Light mentions, but it’s there. 
> 
> Also, I would be remiss to finish this without mentioning the posts on tumblr that started it all (@peggycarterogers, mrgaretcarter's ask about Steggy baby names, and especially @bitchymama 's post about Steggy dealing with too many kids for their house).
> 
> Again, thank you guys so much for the love! It's really been so wonderful.

+1

 

By now, Steve feels as if he knows Peggy’s body better than his own. Without looking, he can trace the lines of her stretch marks that, while faded, bear evidence of the three beautiful children she’s given him. He knows she's self-conscious about the softness to her once-firm abdomen, and the extra ten pounds she hasn’t managed to lose after Michael came along, despite how many times he tells her she still takes his breath away no matter what—or how little—she’s wearing.

 

Steve knows when Peggy’s specific kind of cranky means she’s sleep deprived, or hungry, or when she just needs a moment’s peace. He can tell when her frustrations come from work, or from the kids, or from him, and he definitely knows which occurs most often. He even knows what her eating patterns mean: when she consistently craves chocolate or biscuits for a few days in a row, he knows to gently probe to see what’s bothering her. After all these years, he considers himself well-versed in the handbook of all things Peggy Carter, which is why she doesn’t have to tell him the last time.

 

He catalogues the slightest changes in her behavior, her restlessness in bed and her lack of an appetite at the breakfast table. He’s a little surprised she hasn’t noticed it herself—or, at least, if she has, she hasn’t said anything—but he supposes she’s busy wrangling three children under the age of six while trying to run an intelligence agency. He just wonders how hard she’ll hit him when he tries to tell her he thinks she’s pregnant.

 

His final, definitive clue is her breasts. He is, he thinks, the best expert on them, seeing as he spends more time than anyone else up close and personal with them. He’s watched them change from the high, pert globes of their youth to the fuller, softer mounds that have sustained their children. He knows that Peggy hates the fact that she now requires a brassiere to fill out her dresses the way she used to, but he is fascinated by the way they lay unhindered on her chest when she slips into bed at night, and he lets her know his appreciation as much as he can. So it’s unsurprising, given his innate knowledge of her anatomy, that he notices when her breasts feel fuller and heavier in his hands just over two years after Michael’s birth.

 

They’d started being much more careful after their third child—Peggy claiming no interest in pushing a fourth watermelon out, as she’d put it—but he remembers three weeks ago when Howard had offered them a weekend at his beach house a few hours down the coast. 

 

“She works too hard,” Howard had said, all but forcing them in the car. “I’ll take care of the kids, you know they love me. Go give her a weekend away before she gets so wound up we can’t take it any more.”

 

Much to Steve’s surprise, Peggy had willingly relented—though he’d caught her on the phone with Jarvis passing along specific instructions about the kids’ bedtimes, preferences, and rules. As soon as they’d left city limits, however, she’d relaxed more than he’d thought possible, and they’d thoroughly enjoyed their weekend away. It’d been the longest time they’d had to themselves in years, and they’d taken full advantage of the private beach and enormous bedroom. Maybe too much advantage, given what Steve now suspects.

 

Peggy unknowingly seals the deal in bed one night after the children have been put to bed. They’ve gotten exceedingly good at hiding the evidence of their couplings from their kids (years at finding ways to mask noise in the field comes in handy in an old house with thin walls). Yet Peggy seems to have forgotten her self-discipline as she quite literally wails when Steve sucks especially hard on her left nipple. She’s usually never this sensitive—but then, Steve knows what that means too.

 

Half an hour later, after they’ve sworn up and down to Sarah that Mama had just had a nightmare; no, there were no monsters; yes, she needed to get back to her own bed, Daddy can protect Mama, there’s no need to sleep here; Steve cuddles her to his chest.

 

“Well, consider the mood officially killed,” Peggy sighs, regretful. “I’d continue where we left off but I’m afraid I might”—she yawns spectacularly—“nod off in the middle. Nothing against you, darling, I’ve just been completely knackered lately. Probably the new recruits, I swear they’ll be the death of me.”

 

Steve looks up at the ceiling, steeling his nerve. In for a penny, in for a pound. In the end, it doesn’t especially matter if she socks him; bruises heal quick on him anyway.

 

“Peg,” he says as gently as he can. “There’s something I think you should know.”

 

She looks at him warily. He cuddles her closer, effectively pinning her arms to her sides. He can’t help but take a little precaution.

 

“Peggy, honey, I think you might be pregnant,” he continues cautiously.

 

She shoots him the meanest glare she can conjure up and promptly bursts into sobs.

 

“Oh, bloody hell—dammit, Steve, now you’ve done it, we’ll wake all three of them up, and look what a mess we’ll be in-"

 

Steve isn’t sure how this is his fault, exactly, as she’s the one making all the noise, but he decides it’s not a hill he wants to die on.

 

“Peg, sweetheart, shh, it’s alright,” he murmurs in her ear, rubbing her back soothingly.

 

“It’s not alright! It’s so far from alright—how are you so calm?!” she cries. “We barely have enough room as it is, we’re already outnumbered, now we’re going to make it two-to-one! And I can’t—I can’t—I can’t do it again, Steve, I just can’t.”

 

She sobs into his neck. He gives her a moment, keeping up a constant string of whispers to her about how much he loves her, how strong she is, how she’s the most amazing mother and wife in the whole world.

 

Several minutes later, she gives an undignified snort and pushes herself up to sit against the headboard. With a shudder, she wipes a hand over her face and looks over at him ruefully.

 

“Well, now I’ve officially sent myself off to the loony bin, haven’t I?” She tries for self-deprecating, but the hitch in her voice can’t quite make it there. The dark circles under her eyes betray her just as much.

 

Steve sits up as well and gathers her against his side.

 

“Wanna tell me what that was all about?”

 

She sighs, and he hears her exhaustion in the deep breath.

 

“I’m tired, Steve. I’m tired and I love being their mother, truly I do, but I’m just now really making strides at work after coming back from Michael. I don’t want to have to take a huge step back again. And I’m nearly forty! What forty year old has any business being pregnant?”

 

“You’re barely over thirty-five,” Steve says drily, but quickly sobers his tone. “Look, Peg, I know we weren’t exactly planning this”—she gives a snort—“but sweetheart, I’m in this with you. You know we’re not strapped for cash; I can stop working altogether and take a load off your shoulders at home. And you know that the people at SHIELD respect the hell out of you, and they respect you even more for being a mother as well as the strongest agent they know.”

 

She sniffles loudly when he pauses, but doesn’t protest. It’s the encouragement he needs to keep going.

 

“Pegs, it might not be easy, but none of this has been. I’m right here, honey, and I’m not going anywhere. We can do this, just like we did the rest of it. Together.”

 

She gives a shaky sigh and cuddles even closer.

 

“I love you very much,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’ve made your shirt all wet.”

 

He chuckles.

 

“I love you too, Peg,” he whispers into her hair. “No matter if it’s us against the world or us against four—"

 

He stops when he hears her start to snore.

 

He lets her sleep. Growing a kid is hard work. She would know.

 

*

 

They name him Phillip James. He is as stubborn and bullheaded as his namesakes, but has their kind hearts just the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I took a very JK Rowling approach with the names. Sue me.
> 
> I do feel, though, that Peggy and Steve—both having lost so much—would feel a sort of attachment to these names. And it was the style of the time to reuse both the parents’ names (or middle names, as is the case here) as well as meaningful members of the family.
> 
> Honestly, though, these were the names that popped first into my head and by then they were stuck. They’re also the sorts of names I find beautiful and would use on children of my own some day. If it bothers you, I’m incredibly sorry.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this little jaunt down the Domestic Steggy lane. I've so loved making these characters come to life!


End file.
